Bruises Fade, But the Pain Remains the Same
by Corinne Jane
Summary: You'd never believe it but you had become one of us in your own way. It's not so easy to forget all the marks you've left on us. Not so easy to forget we were your only allies. Not so easy to forget your place was with us. Even if we sometimes hated you.
1. Tony

**Author's Note- This fic will go through every NCIS Agents feeling of this. So it should be eight chapters long. The chapter will be titled on which character it is. This is Tony.**

**WARNING- Recurring Character death. (Meaning it's not a main character)**

I was numb with disbelief.

And horror.

The casket was made of steel.

Paranoid even in death.

I didn't feel real.

None of this felt real.

It was all hazy.

Like a dream you can't remember, no matter how much you struggle to.

Not even the 21 shots could wake me up. They echoed in my empty soul.

I had never meant to take a life.

Never thought his debt would be repaid in blood.

I hated him for this.

For this guilt he's left me to carry.

I wondered if he planned it that way, so I would never forget.

I guess it didn't matter because this wasn't real.

It couldn't be.

He was too strong and smart to die.

That casket had to be empty.

It was all one big joke.

Even though I had been there to see him fall.

To see the blood fly out his chest as the shot gun shell went through it. Chunks of flesh that was later found to be his heart bursting out his back.

I didn't think a body could fly so far back.

The gun had been huge.

But my horror had been greater.

I tried to unsee it.

But it only became clearer.

His blood would always be stained all over me.

The guilty one.

He had laughed.

Just before he died.

It's what got him killed.

I was so shocked, I let my defenses down.

One minute I was brooding, the next he was trying to comfort me.

Bought me a beer, sat next to me on the stool.

Said, "You did the right thing."

But I had still felt like shit.

And he replied, "I know."

Of course he did. He would.

I stared at the steel that enclosed him.

Fear raced in my heart.

What if he was still alive in there?

It was a foolish thought, the autopsy had been done a few days before.

Nevertheless, the vision of him trying to claw through the steel, screaming to be let out still remains.

I could feel myself shaking.

It wasn't cold out.

I was cold inside.

I wondered if he was wearing something warm inside his casket.

I hoped so.

The coffin disappeared into the mouth of the earth. Mother nature swallowing what's hers.

As I watched I felt like walking to the edge and falling into the grave.

It should be me in there.

But it wasn't.

And it wasn't fair.

But maybe he'd be better off dead.

No pain, and he'd be with his little girl once more.

Their eyes would haunt me, I hoped they'd never leave my dreams.

I swallowed hard, the thud of the casket as it hit the bottom of the grave would stay with me for the rest of my life.

I felt sick.

This couldn't be real.

I wanted to scream.

I wanted to trade places with the dead body.

That's how it was meant to be. If he hadn't taken the time to shove me out of the way he'd still be alive.

My life had cost another.

I wasn't certain I was worth it.

In fact I knew I wasn't.

I'd be in debt until I died.

The cold I felt was bone deep, a chill that would never leave my heart.

All those sarcastic remarks, all those barbs meant to get under one anothers skin, all of those glares.

The realization hit me like a ton of bricks.

I would never hear his voice again.

I could never call his phone when I felt weak, when I needed strength, just to hear his voice.

It had given me strength and reassurance. I had always hung up the moment he spoke.

But all I needed was to hear him talk.

And I could go on once more.

I suspected he knew who called him and why.

He never bothered to get his number changed.

I would never hear his voice again.

I would never call his phone again.

I would never be the same again.

I knew the moment I broke apart after a hard day of work, he wouldn't be around to put it back together with just a few words.

I'd just keep breaking.

I would never be okay again.

I'd have to quit. To keep my sanity.

If I didn't I'd keep breaking until my mind was gone.

My soul was being buried alive, in guilt and shame.

I couldn't do the job anymore.

I didn't want to.

After this there was no amount of good I could do, I could create, that would make up for his loss.

No, this world was just cruel.

And no matter how we tried to change that it remained the same.

It fooled us into believing we were winning the battle.

And then when we least expected it, it would rear it's ugly head and rip a hole in us.

It would beat us down, and kill one of our own.

It was winning the battle, we were eating out of it's hand.

I wouldn't be part of it's game any longer.

I was done.

I didn't want to do it anymore.

I couldn't.

Not with him gone.

Everything seemed different with him gone.

I was numb with shock that the world just kept on spinning.

It wasn't right.

It should at least pause in it's orbit.

Pay respects to the man that had done the job others couldn't do, they hated him for it but he had done it for them. And now he's dead.

Because of me.

Everybody was looking at me.

I knew how pale I was.

I could feel it.

It felt like death.

I welcomed it.

I walked forward, my legs felt like jelly under me.

I wasn't real.

This wasn't happening.

I saw myself kneeling, picking up a handful of dirt.

I trembled all over.

We were only feet from the grave, but it felt like miles before I reached the gaping hole.

I didn't want to stare down. Afraid I might see a monster.

I didn't want to see the truth.

I grasped the dirt.

I couldn't let it go.

To let it fall and hit the coffin below my feet would mean it was final.

He was really gone.

I just couldn't let him go.

I never expected to feel such grief.

But tears burned my eyes.

I heard someone say an anguished, "No."

I looked around for the culpirt.

Someone understood my pain.

But they were all looking at me with confusion or compassion.

It had been me.

I shook my head.

I could feel myself losing grip.

Of reality, hope, life.

The handful of dirt.

No matter how hard I grasped it, it leaked through my fingers. A tear fell into the dirt as I let it slide from my hand.

I watched it descend into the hungry mouth.

Creating the first blemish on the prestine silver coffin.

I wanted to climb down and brush it away.

_'I didn't mean it.' _

I'm sure he'd understand.

He understood alot.

I wish I had understood better, sooner.

I would miss him fiercely.

More than I ever thought I would.

I stepped back, I tried to turn around, turn away from all the eyes peering at me.

But there was no escape. They came at me from all sides.

Couldn't they see me being ripped to shreds?

I felt like someone was taking my heart and putting it through a meat grinder.

I wanted to scream.

To cry for help.

To make it stop.

Let's press rewind.

Relive it all over again and then change the ending.

He didn't have to die. He could live.

The world took the best of us.

But that could change, if only I could rewind.

'It's not real. Not true. This is all just a big lie.'

I heard myself say as I turned to stumble back to my place.

It was only a few steps, but it felt like miles once more.

I met my boss's gaze.

They looked so sad in his set face as he gazed at me.

I shook my head.

'Its not true.' I repeat, trying to convince them, if they believed it too maybe it would come true.

But they were so cold.

It seemed that he had made friends only at NCIS.

I stared hopefully at Gibbs.

'I'm asleep.'

That's when my legs gave out and I remembered no more.

Waking up later, we were still in the cemetery, Gibbs was kneeling over me.

He didn't say a word.

I looked back. A pile of dirt heaped in front of the marble tomb stone.

'What if he's still alive in there?'

The irrational fear still gnawed at me.

I wanted to run over there and dig him out.

Maybe, just maybe if someone gave him CPR or shocked him just once more, his heart would start beating. Even though I had seen it fly across the bar room in shreds.

What if he was suffocating while I lay there?

What if I was the reason he died again?

I struggled to get up but Gibbs pushed me down.

_Bastard!_

I looked into his eyes, he shook his head.

'He's gone Tony.' his voice was raw and soft, unguarded.

'It's not true.' I whispered.

'I ever lie to you DiNozzo?'

I shook. My whole body trembled.

He let me stumble to the grave, I fell to my knees at the foot of the dirt hill.

I stared at the tombstone, seeing it but not really

It was like it was staring through me.

I didn't want to believe the words etched onto it's plain, shiny surface.

He couldn't be dead.

He had always been so strong.

Untouchable.

A step a head.

Perhaps he cheated death one time too many.

It didn't make me feel any better.

'I'm so sorry.'

I some how managed to choke out. I couldn't face him.

Couldn't face the accusing name carved into the stone.

'Be alive, please.'

I knew my words were lost on him.

He had already passed on.

I could feel it, it was why everything was so cold to my touch.

Everything was cold. Even the sun.

I put my head to the ground.

Hoping to hear him.

But he's silent.

_Please find peace. Please._

I pleaded with him, as I closed my eyes, resting my head gently on the tombstone.

One single tear fell, it splashed onto the smooth surface.

I ran my hand over the words, wiping my grief off it's surface.

Nothing was going to blemish this man anymore.

I hadn't been able to thank him.

I just wondered, had he stood next to me, only a spirit and watch me perform CPR hopelessly?

Had he seen me take his dead body in my arms and hold him?

Had seen my grief so raw, all these days?

Could he feel my pain? I hope not.

I hope he could feel nothing.

But peace.

I stepped back, getting up shakily, I felt my boss raise my arm and put it around his shoulder.

Leading me away, I looked back.

His tombstone shining, the words blazing in the sun. A final good bye.

_Trent Kort._

_Eternal friend, immortal foe, invulnerable strength._

_October 21, 1967 - July 26 2009._

_You'd never believe it, but you are missed._

**A/N- Please review.**


	2. Gibbs

It wasn't his intention to die for one of my agents. Of that I'm sure.

No, if he was going to die he would have wanted to die honorably in service of his country.

Not defending someone he didn't even like.

But things don't always turn out the way we wanted it in life, so why should death be any different?

I felt nothing.

I had tried to.

Tried to feel grief that this man I had worked with a few times was dead.

The man I didn't trust but had partially befriended and enjoyed having around was gone.

Never would I have to worry about him showing up unexpectedly in my home again.

Never would I worry he'd go after Tony again.

Never would I need to worry that he wouldn't come back after taking off after the bad guys.

I suppose I should be happy about all these things, but I wasn't.

I had lost a friend.

And all I could feel was empty.

I had fought for him after his death.

Had fought for a Military burial..

Flag and 21 shots.

They hadn't wanted to give it to him.

But I wouldn't let them dishonor a hero.

He might have been many things to many people, no one really liked him, but he did awful things to keep this country safe. Had sold his soul to the devil for their safety. They should respect that.

I would miss his companionship.

I would miss waking up and finding him in my basement sanding my boat.

He had become mighty comfortable in my home since he found out I kept the door unlocked.

Watching him work out his own demons on my boat had made me feel a bit more sane.

He trusted me. It was only at my house he felt safe enough to show little pieces of himself.

When he sanded that boat, lost in his own hell, he was at his most vulnerable.

I had felt strangely honored he felt safe enough to let down his guard in my home.

I wonder if that's what got him killed.

I was almost sure it was.

When I had arrived at the scene and seen his shattered body in my Senior Field Agent's arms my heart sunk.

I knew this day was going to come eventually.

He could only outrune fate for so long.

But I had never expected it to be so soon, and especially not for one of my men.

I almost didn't return home that night.

In fear that when I got there he wouldn't be in the basement, glaring at the grain of the wood, as if daring it not to comply to his wishes.

But he had to be, where else would he be?

When the shots had rung out I had flinched at every single one of them, as if they had ripped a whole in my heart.

I could feel Ziva's eyes on me, I hadn't even moved at Kate's funeral, no one else moved at Kort's either. They all seemed to just be killing time by being here.

I felt sick.

I wanted to hit them all.

Didn't they realize they were burying a good man?

They had given me the flag, everyone stared at me then.

I didn't care. I wanted the whole world to know, I was so proud of him.

I could remember the first time I woke up to find him in my basement. I cringed as he sanded the wrong way. I had spooned him from behind, taking his hand showing him just how to properly sand the boat. I had felt him tense, but I had been intoxicated by his scent and couldn't pull away.

I had never been seduced by a man before, it took woman ages to seduce me let alone a man, but Trent had had me in bed in less than a day. He obviously had quite a bit of practice, I had never thought that sex with another man could be so pleasant and feel so good, so right. I wondered if this was pleasure or business for this man. If he had planned to bed me when he arrived or if it was a spur of the moment thing. If, for once, the man let his emotions take over him, his wants and needs over the greater good's. I hoped it was the latter.

It had never developed into anything more, just a place to come to if Kort needed it. Just comfort if he wanted it. The man didn't come to him often, and when he did I knew whatever had happened had to have been bad enough to effect him so deeply. Those nights we wouldn't sleep, we would alternate between love-making and talking about anything and everything. At first it had just been sex but the more they talked the more gentle and sweet the sex became until it became love. There were still nights he'd burst in and we'd fall to the floor in desperate, rough, needy sex. But those nights hardly came twice a year.

I placed his flag on his side of the bed. I almost didn't accept the flag.

It would be accepting his death, and that's something I'll never be able to do.

In the years to come I know I'd wait up at night hoping to hear the door open, to smell his sour but sweet scent travel down the hall. To hear his clothes hitting the floor as he climbed into bed with me.

I would never give up hope.

I couldn't, because that's all I had left.

I knew better to get too attached to the man when it had all began, but soon that went out the door.

He had been my best friend.

I don't know who I'd waste my money on now, who I'd cuddle with in bed and sip cognac with as we talked about the best way to make French Cuisine. I had no idea who would distract me after a bad day at work. And boy had Trent known how to distract me. My closet was full with various leather outfits he would wear to bed. Some were downright ridiculous and the cognac would end up being spit across the bed in laughter. I'd never forget the night he came in wearing nothing but a leather G-string slightly too small for him. They would spend hours laughing and baiting one another before actually making-love.

I felt my eyes well with tears.

_Aw, hell._

Who was I kidding? I already missed the man.

I searched the house, but he wasn't there. I didn't dare enter the bedroom or basement. There were far too many memories in both rooms, I was sure I'd suffocate.

I don't know how I got there, I don't really remember, in fact I don't remember much from last night other than that I grabbed all his cognac and began to drink it. I didn't wash the dishes he had used last, I left his dirty clothes littered all over the house. I didn't touch the boat because it was the last thing he had touched in my home. I didn't change the sheets on my bed, there was still a dried, crusty pool of his semen lying in the middle of the bed. I didn't throw his toiletries away, and I most definitely didn't touch any of the many personal things he had brought to my house. The only thing I had touched was his service weapon, I buried it with him, his back-up I kept as my own. He had my six when he was alive and I knew he'd have it when he was dead as well.

What I do recall is waking up and finding myself in the cemetery, sprawled out on top of his grave. I tried to hear him underneath the dirt, Tony had been right. It was almost like you could hear his heartbeat through the layers of earth and steel. I longed to feel the fabric of his clothing, to feel his rough, hard, warm skin under my gentle touch. I ached to just hold him once more. To see his trademark smirk, to watch his eyes change color from deep brown to blue. I wanted to see him and DiNozzo have it out in the middle of the bullpen-so long as no blood was shed.

But like usual what I wanted didn't matter.

He was dead and I was alive.

Just like Shannon.

My heart ached.

It felt bruised.

That's how I felt. I felt bruised from head to toe, inside and out.

I didn't feel dead. Didn't feel like my heart had been ripped out.

I felt like I was bruised and something had been taken from me, stolen. Something very important.

Where did I go from here?

Where I always went: to work.

How did I carry on?

How I always carried on: Bourbon. Lots and lots of Bourbon.

Why?

Because the only other option is death. And the team had suffered enough.

I was getting sick and tired of being selfless, of always giving and never taking. For once I just could be selfish, and reunite with Shannon, Kelly, Kate, Jen and Trent. But how could I rip another hole in DiNozzo's heart?

It wasn't fair.

I never asked for anything. And when I'm finally granted something so special, something that makes me happy and content, it's ripped from me.

I knew the anger, bitterness and resentment would rip me to shreds as surely as the bullet had ripped Trent's heart to pieces but I didn't care. It's not like I'd be giving my heart to anyone else.

I'd make the world pay for taking Trent.

I'd make it see the huge mistake it made.

Even if it meant my life.


End file.
